Wednesday, May 7, 2014

Wednesday.

Indulge me, if you would, in briefly pondering a hypertheoretical situation:

Okay, so there's a group of kids walking along the sidewalk--young ones, with ages in the single digits. They're with an adult, let's say a teacher, and suddenly a passer-by starts screaming at the teacher like a character out of a Mel Gibson movie:

"KILL THEM! KILL THEM ALL RIGHT NOW! KILL THE LITTLE BABIES!!!"

Would you say that at this point it would be reasonable for an officer of the law to fire a tranquilizer dart into the passer-by's ass and drag him to a mental institution? Because I would. Yet strangely pretty much this same thing happens every day and nobody seems to give a shit.

Indulge me, if you would, in briefly pondering the following actual situation I witnessed yesterday.

It was a lovely, springy day and I was approaching an intersection with a four-way stop near a school. In the crosswalk ahead of me were a bunch of little kids, crossing the streets with some adults. A driver was inside the intersection, waiting them to finish crossing so he could complete his turn. Behind him, a second driver was waiting also, except "waiting" is not the right work, because he's LEANING ON HIS GODDAMN FUCKING HORN THE ENTIRE TIME!!!

This is a perfectly normal sight in New York City, but as I was watching it yesterday all I could think was "This guy is a fucking psychotic!" The most charitable explanation for his behavior is that he wants the little kids to hurry the fuck up, which is only moderately psychotic, and the most disturbing (and likely) one is that he simply wants the driver in front of him to plow through the kids on the crosswalk, which is fully psychotic. Either way, people like this need to have fucking darts fired into them, then they need to be placed in padded rooms for psychological evaluation, and the results of that evaluation notwithstanding they need to have their fucking licenses revoked for all of eternity.

Really, the only difference between my hypoallergenic scenario and the real scenario is that the nutjob is in a car, and of course when you're in a car you're allowed to be as crazy if you want. This is America, and the rule is that if you buy (or lease) something you get to be as batshit insane as you want while you're inside of it. It's sort of a commercial force field. The passer-by is recognized for the lunatic that he is, but the driver just has a little innocent "road rage," and when it finally gets the better of him and somebody dies all he has to do is say he mistook the pedal for the brake and he'll live to drive another day.

Anyway, my ride yesterday took me through pretty much the entire length of Manhattan, and all I could think the whole time was, "You have to be a fucking idiot not to realize that drivers are deranged." Do pedestrians wander into traffic while staring at their smartphones? Sure. Do cyclists on brakeless fixies salmon through red lights at busy intersections? Of course, brakes and stopping are for "woosies." But only a driver will watch a light turn red in the busiest city in America and then stomp on the gas and launch a three-ton vehicle through it as hundreds of people have already begun to cross the street.

All I'm saying is, give me a bike, a tranquilizer gun, and a straight jacket and I'll have the streets safe in no time. "Vision Zero" sounds cute and all, but people are dying for fuck's sake, so how about a new motto?

Meanwhile, in Columbus (that's in Ohio, right?), a local news channel right out of the movie "Anchorman" reports bicycle infrastructure is BLEEDING THE CITY AND THE TAXPAYERS DRY!!!

Or, as far as I can tell, the city put in some bike racks, then a bunch of NIMBYs stopped the bike lane that was supposed to go with them, so now nobody's using them:

Evidently, at a cost of over $500, or one pair of Assos bib shorts, these three racks are now bringing Columbus to its knees.

Wow. Journalistically speaking, this news report is basically the equivalent of honking at the driver in front of you to drive through a bunch of babies.

Then again, I know nothing of the bicycle infrastructure in Columbus, so maybe the whole thing is a poorly-conceived shit show, what do I know? If you have any insight, please share it in the comments, but make sure to pepper those insights with the word "scranus."

The big revelation to me though was that in Columbus people apparently lock their bikes to garbage cans:

I like to think my own locking technique would pass muster with this revered mechanic who bears an uncanny resemblance to Tom Hanks about 75 minutes into "Castaway," and my own saddle-securing trick is a piece of old bicycle chain wrapped in inner tube:

Though you should also keep a novelty turd in your bag at all times:

That way, if you don't have a chain (or you want to enhance your existing security security) you can simply place the novelty turd on top of your saddle as a theft-deterrent.

For maximum effect, I also like to plant a little toothpick flag in it warning would-be saddle thieves that I carry a fecal-borne disease:

Though this has been known to backfire, like that time when I returned to find my saddle gone and my flag modified:

If attacking or yelling doesn’t work, try this: As you drop to the rear of the paceline, Mr. Deadwood will likely open up a little gap in front of him and allow you the privilege of slipping in front of him, thus preventing him from ever rotating to the front (Figure 6.2). When you get in front of him, slow down. A lot. Allow a huge gap to open in front of you. Let it grow as large as you can. Wait for Mr. Deadwood to jump around you to close the gap. If he wants to stay with the breakaway, he’ll eventually decide to go around you. When he goes past you, jump on his wheel and let him tow you back up to the group. This is a complex tactic that requires a unified effort by everyone in the breakaway to help out. If you’re the only one who’s concerned about the freeloader,this tactic will not work.All riders in the breakaway must do the same thing to Mr. Deadwood every time they rotate to the back. That is, take him off the back and make him chase to regain contact. This requires him to work very hard to stay in the break, or die trying. Not literally, of course. We don’t want anyone to die in pursuit of a pair of socks and a TGI Fridays gift card.

Of course, to fully enjoy Chris Horner's book you really need to be up on pro racing lingo. For example, "Mr. Deadwood" is peloton slang for "guy who's been cooperating with USADA."

For the rest of us, the best way to shed a wheelsucker remains a well-timed burst of flatulence.

more queestions asked than answered... how does one break the wheelsucker in the cat 6 commute race? advice from the peloton doesn't capture the humiliation of a fredly morning wheelsucker both propelling and inspiring hatred while you try to get to work. almost as bad as a horn wielding bliviot, a wheelsucker on the commute ruins the morning.

I got a good spittle-infused "fuck you" from a guy in a Subaru (Love, it's apparently not what makes a Subaru such) the other day. On a country road, the long hilly way between two towns. He slowed down and gave me this sentiment through his open passenger window, upon which seat cowered a hapless preteen. I enjoyed the ironic "CO-EXIST" sticker, you know, the one made up of different religious symbols. There was also a Peace symbol, and a rainbow flag back there. Anyways, this story is just my long-winded way to agree with you WCRM, that once in the confines of a car, normal people get downright weird.

Because I'm so slow I don't often get wheelsuckers but one time an annoying remora was latched on so I just blew a snot rocket. He cursed and fell back and I said, oh, sorry, didn't know you were there.

The incessant honking to turn even though the cross walk is blocked by pedestrians always perplexes me. It is always the car behind the first car, whose only choice would be to plow through the pedestrians. It is usually a cabbie honking who is often in the first car position and gets honked at, so that makes it even more ridiculous. One of the many things about NYC drivers that drives me nuts.

Indignity of bike commuting...On a road 7 lanes wide (3East 3West and a turning lane)so early in the morning that there is nobody on the road but me and the asshole choosing to drive behind me in the rightmost lane. He lays on his horn for 3 blocks before finally passing and telling me to get out of the way.

Midwesterners are nothing if not thrifty. That's a single dinner for two at a nice restaurant in Manhattan, yet it's real news in Columbus.

For those of you strange to the ways and customs of Columbus, what the airing of this story means is that there were no developments involving the Ohio State University football team that day, which of course would have pushed this story off the airwaves.

I spit, ... often. The Third Eye mirror clipped to the glasses is geeky, dorky, and nerdy to be true, but I know what the fluff people are doing behind me.

Next step is re-bar nun-chuks or at least a single rebar in the CampAGnolo clip pump holder. Better yet, a hollowed out Silca pump, painted to match the frame, with rebar inside, the excess room taken up with some sand. What the engineers would call "an elegant solution". -Disclaimer: no one should do this.

Of course, if this were "real aMURica" I could keep a 50 caliber Desert Eagle semi auto in a cross draw holster. Defintely nickel plated. Peace through strength.

I walked around downtown Columbus last year, and there are bikes lanes, but they're "bike lanes".

Scranus

As in, a far right-hand traffic lane, that has a bicycle painted on the pavement every 30 yards or so.

Scranus

So, they're not *dedicated* bike lanes, they've just got bikes on them so that motorists can see that bicycles are supposed to ride there. I doubt that keeps the drivers from screaming at the brave cyclists to 'get on the sidewalk where they belong'.

Not just NYC drivers. Here in Toronto too. Some a**hole leaning on his horn to try to convince someone else they really should be turning into pedestrians.

Toronto drivers are under a lot of stress, the poor guy probably overbid $1.2M for a shithole in the Annex that sold in 2000 for $140K and he's nervous about Robs Fords in rehab, because taxes might go up and he can't afford his Annex shithole any more, so RUN THOSE FUCKING KIDS OVER, I NEED ANOTHER FRAPPAMOCHACHINOLATTE...

In Chicago, a long honk is usually the No. 2 or 3 car. A burst of short honks is a bus bearing down on a crosswalk full of jaywalkers. Today I saw a guy on a Divvy bike (local equivalent of Citibike) who couldn't get through a crosswalk even though he had the light! And we cyclists are the dangerous ones.

Am I naive here in thinking that if you do that trick, and your buddy "Mr. Deadwood" has to battle his way back up to the group, then so, the fuck, do you? Like if someone who sucks, has to go around you, that is because you have descended to and surpassed his level of suckitude, and are now officially not worth following?

You get to suck the wheel of the deadwood and hope he doesn't suck too badly to get you back to the pack - but then he will slow down to get you off his wheel, and you both end up going backwords into the gravital force of Rob Fords asshole, somewhere in an Ukranian rehab center run by Russian speaking Russian sympathizers pedaling cahhhhfee bikes

"Toronto drivers are under a lot of stress, the poor guy probably overbid $1.2M for a shithole in the Annex that sold in 2000 for $140K and he's nervous about Robs Fords in rehab, because taxes might go up and he can't afford his Annex shithole any more, so RUN THOSE FUCKING KIDS OVER, I NEED ANOTHER FRAPPAMOCHACHINOLATTE..."

Ha. Except people like me that bought houses in Annex for 1.2 million actually bought a house there to be able to walk/bike to work, and our councilors/voting are decidedly not for the anti-tax Robs Fords crack smoking types.

I was standing in the lineup for a mountain bicycling bicycle race yesterday (Tuesday Night Worlds, woo hoo!!!) and I let loose with a not so well timed burst of flatulence. Damn. Talk about an outdoorsman. It's a wonder I didn't kill anyone - although it probably would have improved my placing if I had.

Had a wheelsuck brother in law years back. Never pulled. Me being a Clydesdale, all he did was suck my ample dreft, no matter how much raw broccoli I ate. I discovered, if I sat bolt upright he got such a good draft, almost like a vacuum. I get into the low 20's, drop down and the resulting gale knocked Mr. Deadwood back a quarter mile. Thenk God for mother girth.

Snob, you know you've reached a new low when engineers are correcting your spelling (Robot Engineer 12:27). To clarify, Trank is the American spelling and Tranq is the British/Canadian spelling. Sheesh, everybody knows that, and I totally did not just make that up.

I know you're angry today, the terse headline and impatient tone of your briefing is clear evidence of that, and you probably don't want to address more mundane matters, but I do have cycling related queries that you might find a moment to attend to between Fucker Tranking missions.

Ahem.

1) In today's photo of Son of Scat: where is that? At first I thought it was in an elevator, but then I looked more closely and decided it might be a train. Which brings me to;

2) Is it a train? (I just realised the answer to the first question would negate the need for the second question, but it's too late now, I've already asked the second question. Sorry.)

3) Isn't taking proper bikes on NY trains forbidden?

4) Are you therefore going though rebellious phase?

5) Are you aware that your carrying-a-bike-on-a-train-craft is lousy?

6) Wouldn't it be better strapped to a handrail where it wouldn't take up two seats?

1) In today's photo of Son of Scat: where is that? At first I thought it was in an elevator, but then I looked more closely and decided it might be a train.

It is indeed a train.

Which brings me to;

2) Is it a train? (I just realised the answer to the first question would negate the need for the second question, but it's too late now, I've already asked the second question. Sorry.)

Don't let it happen again.

3) Isn't taking proper bikes on NY trains forbidden?

Actually, you can take a bike on the NYC subway whenever you want, though etiquette dictates you don't do it during rush hour, etc.

In this case though, my bike not on a subway. It is on a commuter train, which requires a permit and allows bikes between the hours of 1:00am and 1:05am on alternate Thursdays.

4) Are you therefore going though rebellious phase?

No, I'm docile to the point of being neutered.

5) Are you aware that your carrying-a-bike-on-a-train-craft is lousy?

I'm not even aware that's a thing.

6) Wouldn't it be better strapped to a handrail where it wouldn't take up two seats?

Our commuter trains don't provide much space in which it's convenient to park a bike, if you saw how they are configured you'd understand. If I strapped it to the handrail by the door then people wouldn't be able to get it on and off the train--although if I find myself on a train with my bike it's because it's really late so there aren't many people on the train. Also, I'm generally only traveling a couple of stops so it's not really an issue.

In this case, I'm basically taking up the wheelchair/handicapped area, which is basically what society considers us anyway. Rest assured if an actual wheelchair-bound person boarded the train I would vacate the space immediately.

First of all its a selfie, and I bet the guy taking the selfie rides the Special Ed proudly on display. The girl with the overloaded Saloman pack isn't even wearing cycling shorts and there are road racing bikes mixed with mtn bikes.

But the real reason is perhaps the picture on the wall. I'm willing to bet snobby hates fireworks.

I once rode the Sydney to Gong on a full suspension Specialized®. It's quite possible that I was sporting slicks at the time. I was heaps cooler than all those other boring dorks on the ride though, as I bunny hopped up and down gutters all along the route. I guess I was just too epic, on my Epic®. Caught the F train (Fred train) back up to Sydney.

Anon 9:10, type whatever it is you have to type about scranus and the registered trademarks relating to scranus into a Word document. Go to the "Insert" tab at the top of the page, click on "Symbol", then "More Symbols". Scroll down until you find The Mark of Sinyard and insert, slowly. Copy and paste your hilarious comment into the BSNYC comment section in order to help out poor old Snobbo with his blog, and for the betterment of the internet and humanity as a whole. The end.

Listen, I know you write the blog WHILE RIDING YOUR FRANKENBIKE, and therefore can't be held to complete clerical accuracy, BUT you gotta help us out here and keep the errors down to no more than ONE in each paragraph.

To wit, paragraph SIX of today's blog, you need to add the word "FOR" between "waiting" and "them"; and second, you need to correct the word "work" to "word".

Friends of mine were out last week and a guy in a high-end Mercedes was blasting his horn at a car waiting for peds in the crosswalk. They shouted to him, "Hey buddy, there are people crossing, chill." His response was something like, "You say something else and I'll fucking kill you." Really glad we give licenses to people like this to operate dangerous heavy machinery.

About Me

While I love cycling and embrace it in all its forms, I'm also extremely critical. So I present to you my venting for your amusement and betterment. No offense meant to the critiqued. Always keep riding!